Free Falling ...

There is a belief in family therapy that, if one person lets go of the reins, there is an automatic shifting of power and control to the other partner.  True partnership thrives on this "ying and yang", give and take, the need of one person to just not be at the helm for a while, to be a passenger.  I have learned over the years that this only works in strong relationships, where there is true respect between the partners - whether they be spouses, friends, siblings.  It all hinges on respect.  And if respect is lacking, when the one who has always been accountable, always been the pleaser ... when that one lets go, there will be no one to catch her.

True respect is not about behaving oneself.  It is about being able to have different a different viewpoint, and being judged by ones' actions, historically.  Life exists on a continuum.  We learn over time what others expect of us, our role, and it is not always defined by who we want to be, but rather by what they allow us to be.  Sometimes, that role just isn't one we want to play anymore - it never really was what we wanted, it never fit, but it was the only one ever offered, no matter how we tried to fight it. 

A time comes when we must live authentically - when we can no longer live by the rules set forth by those we may not even like, try as we might to respect.  And so, we fall ...

Welcome to the New School Year ...

We do things a bit different around here (snort)!  We begin a new school year in May.  April is our preferred month for outdoor activities, such as they are.  Being homebodies, the kids will ride their bikes or run around a bit, but they really prefer the comfort of a good chair and the solitude of a great book.  They can while away the hours in such repose, needing gentle reminders to come up for air now and again. 

April also marks a natural transition in growth, both emotional as well as physical, in my children.  They always appear to shed the last year's level of learning as naturally as a snake sheds its skin, somehow morphing before my eyes into a new level of maturity.  It is magical to witness this growth each spring, as though they too have lain dormant beneath the earth, fed by the books they have hungrily devoured over the long days' of winter. 

We have a new classroom, with a set of long-coveted Ikea bookshelves to hold (some of) our numerous tomes.  We are actually already in Week 4, having begun the first Monday in May.  Our year is divided into three terms, with approximately a three-week break scheduled in between each. 

This year's studies will include:

Sarah, grade 9
My Father's World Ancient History and Literature
BJU Literature 9 with DVDs
Science will focus on evolution and creation perspectives
MUS Geometry
Teaching Textbooks Algebra II
Henle Latin
German
Art
Piano

Jacob, grade 7
Sonlight Core 100 American History - History, Literature, Bible
Supplementary Geography
Saxon Algebra 1/2
Sonlight Science G
Piano

Hannah, grade 5
Sonlight Science F
American Presidents
Beautiful Feet Geography
American History from 1815 to Present
Rod & Staff Grammar 6
Harp & Laurel Wreath for Poetry and Dictation Selections
Rod & Staff Math 6
Literature from Ambleside Online, SL Cores D & E, whatever else I can find
Latin
Art
Knitting
German

Elijah, age 8
Still trying to find the right fit.  I made a very expensive error by purchasing the Memoria Press 3rd grade program, thinking somehow that would work.  The amount of writing was just too much.  We are using Story of the World, Volume 2, the Middle Ages with success right now.  Hopefully that will continue to work with him.  MP has a nice program, but, Sonlight has been my go-to for so long, it was hard to read a single book over the course of an entire term. 

Emma is really showing an interest in learning.  She climbs up on a chair, announcing it is time for her to do math.  It will be interesting to see where she is in her development at the end of this school year.  I guess that is why I take this time to make these notes.  I can look back in April of 2013 and see how far we have come, what changes I needed to make, what worked the first time.  I have already moved the school room to the other side of the family room.  Who knows what this year will bring.

Just In Time for Christmas ...

During our second year of marriage, my husband's grandmother passed away. She was 83 years old. It hit him hard. He had somehow never pondered an existence that did not include her.

That has never been the case for me. I have always been acutely aware of mortality, of the brevity of some lives, of the inevitable demise of each and every thing I hold dear.

I believe that awareness has made miracles like my daughter's life all the sweeter for me.

I do confess to getting somehow stuck after my dad passed away. Life seemed difficult to define, lacking in purpose. His once tangible cheek with the stubbly bristles was no longer there to kiss hello. And, I confess to still being taken aback by his picture, depicting a very alive man, with the reality being very much to the contrary.

There was a desire to hold on, even when holding on meant a great deal of emotional pain.

And in holding on, I knew I was missing out - there were new memories to make, new images to capture that will one day take my breath away as I reflect on those moments in time when that was our reality, and there was laughter to accompany the smiles ingrained in the photographs.

And as much as I wish my dad could have shared in Christmas 2011 with us, I am so glad I woke up from my own slumber to capture the joy and miraculousness of the season.

Dear Dad ...

Today is six months, Dad ... Six months since you left us, taking a huge chunk of what made us a family away with you. To say I miss you would not do the pain justice. To say there is an emptiness is just not descriptive enough to capture the void your death has left. The morning you died is as fresh as if it were this morning, the rasping breaths you took as horribly penetrating in my mind as they were in those final minutes of your life. If I had been a braver soul, I would have held your hand as you passed from this realm. But I could not bear to look upon you in your pain, and I could not handle that sound, a sound that haunts me to this day. I hope you can forgive me for that. I am trying to forgive myself.

You are with me in spirit each day, Dad. Especially when I tend to your lawn. I picture you as a bobble-head, bouncing along on the front of the tractor. You scold and swear and scowl just as you always did, a cantankerous old man with a penchant for ticking everyone off. Oh, how I miss that. I would love to have another Friday-night showdown over politics, to leave your home swearing that that would be the last Friday night dinner I would ever sit through and allow you to get to me like that.

Which one of those dinners was the last one? Which Friday marked the very last Friday night we would spend in that way? I missed it, never celebrating its solemnity as the. very. last. one. It came and went and was lost among the last days of your life, when all that was left was to look back at days gone by, because to look forward meant to peek into the endlessness of days that were to be lived without you.

There is not a day that goes by that you are not mentioned here. The kids hold memories of you so near and dear to their hearts, striving to cherish each one by playing it much as a beloved recording of some dear song. If they shed tears it is not done in my presence, so acutely aware are they of my own sadness that they would never add to the pain. But they miss you so, Dad. Pictures of you crop up as bookmarks, or lining shelves in their closets, or in drawers. It startles me, at times, encountering your smiling face, raising a glass of cheer. You are so alive, so real ... And yet, you are no more.

I hope you have found peace and healing, Dad. We miss you.

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Fall Term 2011 Week 1 ...

We resumed our studies this week, after a three week hiatus. After being plagued by doubts regarding my choice of studies for each student this year, I made the switch to Tapestry of Grace for three of them - we will not "officially" be including the younger twin due to his proclivity for sleeping in. TOG will provide our framework, our foundational program, and most of our other resources will be folded in where they fit. I am still a Sonlighter at heart - the schedule grid calls to me each and every time I sit to plan a new year's course of study. But, as my daughter is quickly approaching the high school years, I want more. I want humanities, and worldview, and discussion questions, and arts, and theology ...and I want it in a format that is planned out for me, yet still allows me to plan. Oh so clear, eh?

Basically, I am a researcher at heart. I love the search for resources that will "fit", each child unique in his or her learning style, each a separate challenge to me. But, from a practical perspective, I have to choose between my penchant to plan, and my desire to teach while maintaining a home and feeding my children well. Tapestry allows me both, while accommodating those weeks when all I have room for is "the plan".

So, with all that in mind, we set to work on Monday morning. Emma is still challenging my abilities to live life strung out from sleep punctuated by frequent interruptions. We did not start each day at 8 a.m., as we (I) would prefer. It was more along the lines of 10 before we really got rolling. Our Tapestry readings did not take long, and we even managed to read a few extra chapters in the Hakim History of US series not scheduled in TOG. We also did a group exercise in geography, making sure the younger students were familiar with the eastern seaboard of the United States. Our read-aloud is Johnny Tremain, a book that always challenges my fortitude, simply because I find it verbose.

Everyone managed 5 days' worth of math, science, and language instruction. I find myself militaristic lately with regards to grammar instruction, simply because I cannot stand the lack of proper grammar pervasive in society these days. And I have recently been challenged to hold stead-fast to my views, in light of an experience that had me questioning if I am indeed of the archaic, close-minded, dying breeds the new enlightened, careless and carefree individuals of the world - with their cigarettes in one hand, cell phones in another AS THEY CONTEMPLATE JUST WHICH HAND SHOULD BE CHALLENGED TO DROP ITS RESPECTIVE VICE SO THAT THEY MAY ACTUALLY MAKE THE LEFT-HAND TURN (yes, totally tangential, a rather far-reaching tangent, but still one I had to get out) - would have me believe.

Try reading a review for a product on Amazon, all the while fighting your way through atrocious spelling, no punctuation, and improper use of pronouns. I picture some of these people as unable to tie their own shoes, much less hold down a job, or raise a child. Most of these individuals are the product of the public school system, the very system that oversees me and my education of my children. Yet, I need to report to them, I need to seek approval from them, to hear from them that I am doing an acceptable job educating my clan, whilst they have failed the masses.

I am answering to a system that has allowed centuries worth of endeavors to make this country strong and intellectual to be replaced with modern-day text messaging that makes us appear fools. We make immigrants attend ESL classes only to eschew the proper spoken and written word in those individuals indigenous to this country. We are hypocrites with a failure for foresight. In other words, where are we to be in the future when children cannot speak properly, cannot write clearly, and have no ability to communicate clearly because, "i m gud - wutz up wid u?" is considered not only acceptable ... but preferable!

I will now descend from my soapbox to resume my re-cap of our week. We resumed our Shakespeare studies with Hamlet, our first foray into the genre of Tragedies, although my children did see some of the dark humor interspersed in the sadness. We read from the comic book series, Tales from Shakespeare,which I love because it intersperses actual Shakespearean dialog among its translations. We also read from Tales from Shakespeare by Edith Nesbit, completed a notebook page depicting a scene from the play, and did a narration of the plot. My kids love Shakepeare and are very familiar with many of his works. They actually love to study anyone they believe to be a touch off their rocker.

So, there it is, Week 13, Fall Term 2011 in review. I guess I should blow off steam more frequently, and not seek to tackle careless drivers and the deficiency of grammar (I had atheists in there too, but edited myself) in American society all in one post. I will now take myself and my rather unpopular views concerning the disappointing trends in modern-day society and disappear back into the blog-o-sphere.

I Was Going to Call and Wish You a Happy Birthday ...

until I remembered you were not there. And, once again, I am struck by the thought -

I can accept you are dead ...

I just cannot believe you are gone.

If the internet reaches to Heaven, Dad, Happy Birthday.

About a Pop-pa ... A Poem ...

About a Pop-pa

A Poem by Sarah, age 8

A Pop-pa gives you comfort and warmth,

And smiles like the sun in spring.

A Pop-pa gives you just about,

Everything.

He makes sure you are happy and safe,

And makes you stuffed with chocolate and cake.

You think you have everything,

You could want and need.

Yet he still finds a way

To stuff something in between.

It's funny what you find when you deep-clean a drawer.